9. Cal

9

CAL

I was never trained to endure this. Officially, I was trained to endure anything, but that was before Ava. Everything I learned about resisting the enemy became null and void the moment Kiel approached her in that room. I've lost track of time and hardly know when I'm awake or asleep. I think I sleep a lot. Either way, I'm in a nightmare. My heart perpetually hammers in my throat. My body feels heavy. I slump against the wall and can't convince my legs to support my weight.

There's a horrible sound. I think Ava's crying. When I look toward the window, she's asleep and alone in her room. The sound doesn't stop.

"Ava?" My voice is raspy but cuts through the noise. The room is so empty, and I don't know where I am. "When I was a boy, I wanted a sister." I say into the room. Maybe Ava can hear me. I doubted it, but that didn't stop me. "Ava. I wanted a sister, but I knew my dad would treat her like my mom. So, then I thought I wanted a brother, but I knew there'd be a chance that he'd turn out like my dad. I figured I was better alone." The light in the room seems to pulse.

"Ava," I say, but I don't know what the word means. I like the way it fits in my mouth, so I say it again.

My body trembles so violently it feels as if my very skin is trying to slide off my flesh. There's a woman in the other room. She's naked and asleep. Even thin and bloodied, she's beautiful. I know her.

"Ava," I whisper. Tears clog my throat. Horrible images flash through my mind. I see Kiel on top of her. I am the reason she's here. I am the reason she's hurting. I'm dying in the other room. She's dying.

I have never felt more useless in my life.

"One of the only times I felt like my mom was safe was when we went to church. I never liked Christianity, but I really hated it when my dad became a pastor." She doesn't respond. I watch her chest rise and fall.

"She was the most beautiful woman. She had dark hair like me and eyes like the deepest part of the ocean. She smelled like the beach during winter but was always soft and warm. The women at church pretended to like her, but they were all jealous of her. She was more beautiful than anyone else in the congregation, and they always talked behind her back. You would have loved her." The room spins, and I have to close my eyes to avoid the growing nausea. My heartbeat pulses all the way down my fingertips.

"I stopped going to church when I was in high school. I wanted to appease mom, but I couldn't stand before a god that let such horrible things happen to the person I loved the most. When I was younger, I thought going to church and keeping up appearances would encourage my dad to go easy on her. I eventually learned that it didn't matter what I did or what she did. If he wanted to beat on her, nothing would stop him. So, I stopped going."

I open my eyes again, but my vision won't focus. Ava's still in the adjacent room, but her body is a blur. "Something about the imagery always stuck with me. There's so much interest in Christ's blood and his suffering. What can I say? It held a certain appeal."

I chuckle, but nothing feels funny. The laugh swiftly turns into a cough. Suddenly, I can't stop coughing. My lungs are on fire as precious moisture pours from my eyes. I force myself to hold back the cough and focus on controlling my breath.

"I'm so sorry, Viper," I say when I can speak again. "I would do anything to save you from this." I am suddenly a little kid again, kneeling on an altar while the congregations' eyes bore into my back.

"God, please," I whisper. "If you're real - if you're out there, please spare her from this. I know it's too late for my soul, but spare hers. I don't deserve her, and she doesn't deserve this. Please, for once in my life, show mercy." I can't even find it within myself to feel foolish because escape is inconceivable. I can barely stay conscious, let alone plan a breakout.

"Please, God," I whisper again. This time, I feel something wet on my face. I'm crying. I don't know the last time I cried. There's a building pressure in my chest. Panic follows right behind the tears, and I quickly lose what little control I had on my breathing.

Who am I fucking kidding? God didn't answer any of my prayers when I pleaded for him to save my mom. Why would he show up now? It doesn't matter. I would beg for Ava.

"You owe me," I say between gasping breaths. "You watched me and my mom suffer for years while you sat on your shitty ass metaphysical throne in the fucking sky. You let her suffer and then you let her die. So, you owe me. Ava has to live." I choke on the words and lean the back of my head against the wall.

I think I sleep, but nothing has changed when I open my eyes. She's asleep on the table. The wounds on her stomach and legs are an angry red. Some are scabbed but so many have reopened. Her dark hair twists around the pillow, full of tangles.

The man in scrubs tried to brush it at first, but now he occupies himself with different parts of her body during those visits. The memories make me nauseous. Ava will never forgive me for this, but it's not like I deserve her forgiveness anyways. She should kill both Kiel and me for what's happened to her. I wouldn't even fight her. I'd give her the loaded gun myself.

I think I'm asleep again when Ava lifts her head. She scans the room with an alertness I haven't seen in a long time. It's as if she can see through the glass because I feel her eyes looking into my very soul. She pulls at her restraints, but gives up when they don't budge.

I'm sure I'm asleep when both Kiel and the man in scrubs barrel into Ava's room a few minutes later. They're disheveled, but Kiel immediately begins preparing a syringe. When he's injected it into her arm, he waits for her eyes to close before pulling on her restraints. They work together to unbuckle her before Kiel scoops her into his arms. He carries her out the door as the man in scrubs opens mine. He's through the threshold when Kiel yells after him.

"Leave him! Let's go!" Doors open, I can now hear alarms echoing from another part of the building. I thrash in my chains, sure the place is in the process of burning down. The skin around my wrist is raw and bloody when I slump back against the wall. There's no smell of smoke, but the building seems quiet aside from the alarms.

The silence breaks fifteen minutes later when I hear the unmistakable sound of gunshots. Hope flares white hot in my chest at the sound. Thudding footsteps follow a moment later, and Chase Giovanni surveys the room, assault rifle raised. I might be asleep, but I call out anyway.

"Chase! I'm here!" His head whips toward the sound. He looks between the one-way mirror and my door. He keeps the weapon raised as he pushes into the room. When he sees me, he lowers the gun, mouth agape.

"Cal? Jesus Christ, Cal, I've got you man. I've got you." I fall forward, but Chase catches me before the chains can.

"Ava's gone. He took her again," I groan before I pass out.